"What the fuck does that mean?'.'
"Whata you mean, what the fuck does that mean?" I
snapped, pissed and embarrassed.
. "Sales could be anything, right?" He shrugged. "You a VP or a clerk?"
"Neither." I turned away.
"Myself"—he poked my arm—"I'm now in commit-nications." He waited for me to turn back to him, his head cocked, chin pointing to his shoulder, a smirk plastered on his lips. "I sort mail for the post office.
All the difference in the world. I lightened up, dipped my head in acknowledgment, "Door-to-door."
Mona started talking to the guy who came on line behind Jackie.
"You know, I'll tell you something, you never know who's going to make it doing what in this world." He put his hands inside his rib-high jacket pockets and scanned the street. "And the God's honest truth, I don't know about you, you know, door-to-door, but I put in forty fuckin' hours a week in that goddamn PO. That's forty hours working with every low-life bastard that can pass a multiple-choice exam to get a federal job. Punching out a time card to take a crap, vending machine -coffee with every meal." He dropped his voice, still staring out at the street "Getting chewed out by some bullshit nigger with two years' seniority on me. And I swear to God, if I didn't believe I was destined from some fuckin' greatness for something a hell of a lot better…" He rubbed his mouth. "I dunno, so we'll see.
I'm feelin' pretty good tonight, so well see. You a singer, too?" He raised his chin in my direction.
"Me? Nah, I'm down here with my girlfriend, she's a singer."
"Who, her?" He tilted his head back and to the right where Mona was yakking away. He looked like he was in pain.
I jerked back and squinted too, like gimme a break.
"La Di." I turned La Donna around. "La Donna, this is Jackie di Paris."
"Hey, now you're makin' sense." He held out both hands palms up. "How you doin', baby." He leaned forward and kissed her under her ear, holding the other side of her face in the flat of his palm. Then he straightened up holding both of her hands in his. "I'm sure you're a very fine singer, and I'm sure you'll do very well tonight." He winked at me.
La Donna frowned and nodded awkwardly.
"Wha, you nervous?" He jerked back and looked outraged.
She mumbled "A little" and tried to extract her hands.
"What are you nervous about?" he sneered. "Don't fuckin' worry, they're all fuckin' jibones out there."
"Thank you." She pulled one hand free. He let go of the other one and drew me and La Donna into a huddle. "Also"—he had his arms around our shoulders"there's no fuckin' competition," he whispered, raised his head, peered at the line and ducked back into the huddle. "You ever see such a line-up of freaks?"
At that moment a ripple of energy pulsed up the line. We turned around; a tall, thin guy in a sealskin coat and a lamb's-wool Cossack hat was working his way up to us, cradling a clipboard and handing out yellow Community Chest Monopoly cards.
"Name?"
"La Donna." She straightened up, gave him all her attention, like this joker had the power. She tilted her 'head and read her name as he wrote it on the clipboard.
"La Donna what?"
"Just La Donna." She held her manila folder" with her fingertips.
"Singer?"
"Yes."
"Okay." He handed her a yellow card. The number thirteen was written on the back in red Magic Marker. "You're number thirteen. Be here no later than nine. Any drinks you have at the bar you pay for. You got ten minutes up there, one song. If you want piano accompaniment you have to supply the music. If you're late you're out. Name please?"
"Nah, I'm with her." I took her by the elbow, waved good-bye to Jackie, who was getting his number, and ushered her across the street.
"What time is it now?" she asked.
"Ten after five. We got almost four hours. You wanna go to a movie? They got
Heart of Glass
playing at the Coronet."
She didn't answer.
"You wanna rent a hotel room and screw around?" Hah. "No, seriously, if you want we got
"Whata you mean, what the fuck does that mean?" I
snapped, pissed and embarrassed.
. "Sales could be anything, right?" He shrugged. "You a VP or a clerk?"
"Neither." I turned away.
"Myself"—he poked my arm—"I'm now in commit-nications." He waited for me to turn back to him, his head cocked, chin pointing to his shoulder, a smirk plastered on his lips. "I sort mail for the post office.
All the difference in the world. I lightened up, dipped my head in acknowledgment, "Door-to-door."
Mona started talking to the guy who came on line behind Jackie.
"You know, I'll tell you something, you never know who's going to make it doing what in this world." He put his hands inside his rib-high jacket pockets and scanned the street. "And the God's honest truth, I don't know about you, you know, door-to-door, but I put in forty fuckin' hours a week in that goddamn PO. That's forty hours working with every low-life bastard that can pass a multiple-choice exam to get a federal job. Punching out a time card to take a crap, vending machine -coffee with every meal." He dropped his voice, still staring out at the street "Getting chewed out by some bullshit nigger with two years' seniority on me. And I swear to God, if I didn't believe I was destined from some fuckin' greatness for something a hell of a lot better…" He rubbed his mouth. "I dunno, so we'll see.
I'm feelin' pretty good tonight, so well see. You a singer, too?" He raised his chin in my direction.
"Me? Nah, I'm down here with my girlfriend, she's a singer."
"Who, her?" He tilted his head back and to the right where Mona was yakking away. He looked like he was in pain.
I jerked back and squinted too, like gimme a break.
"La Di." I turned La Donna around. "La Donna, this is Jackie di Paris."
"Hey, now you're makin' sense." He held out both hands palms up. "How you doin', baby." He leaned forward and kissed her under her ear, holding the other side of her face in the flat of his palm. Then he straightened up holding both of her hands in his. "I'm sure you're a very fine singer, and I'm sure you'll do very well tonight." He winked at me.
La Donna frowned and nodded awkwardly.
"Wha, you nervous?" He jerked back and looked outraged.
She mumbled "A little" and tried to extract her hands.
"What are you nervous about?" he sneered. "Don't fuckin' worry, they're all fuckin' jibones out there."
"Thank you." She pulled one hand free. He let go of the other one and drew me and La Donna into a huddle. "Also"—he had his arms around our shoulders"there's no fuckin' competition," he whispered, raised his head, peered at the line and ducked back into the huddle. "You ever see such a line-up of freaks?"
At that moment a ripple of energy pulsed up the line. We turned around; a tall, thin guy in a sealskin coat and a lamb's-wool Cossack hat was working his way up to us, cradling a clipboard and handing out yellow Community Chest Monopoly cards.
"Name?"
"La Donna." She straightened up, gave him all her attention, like this joker had the power. She tilted her 'head and read her name as he wrote it on the clipboard.
"La Donna what?"
"Just La Donna." She held her manila folder" with her fingertips.
"Singer?"
"Yes."
"Okay." He handed her a yellow card. The number thirteen was written on the back in red Magic Marker. "You're number thirteen. Be here no later than nine. Any drinks you have at the bar you pay for. You got ten minutes up there, one song. If you want piano accompaniment you have to supply the music. If you're late you're out. Name please?"
"Nah, I'm with her." I took her by the elbow, waved good-bye to Jackie, who was getting his number, and ushered her across the street.
"What time is it now?" she asked.
"Ten after five. We got almost four hours. You wanna go to a movie? They got
Heart of Glass
playing at the Coronet."
She didn't answer.
"You wanna rent a hotel room and screw around?" Hah. "No, seriously, if you want we got
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